I don't know you
but I see your face, in black and white
and brown and grey
and yellowed paper,
torn, frayed
I don't know your name
But your pen has etched words between pages,
half-read, half-wondered,
smoothly curlicued
Hello there!
and Muskaka Avenue

I don't know you,
but there are weddings, deaths
communion, baptism,
flowers

I don't know your name
but there's someone smiling
up from brittle pages,
and a tiny television set, brand new
and black and white,